Pure Imagination
by Hakurei Ryuu
Summary: Before the magic is brought to life, it must first be imagined. Creativity is a wonderful and dangerous thing... ficlet, tiein with Full Circle


AN: Hello world! I'm still alive! _-dodges paper ball­-_ Okay! I'm sorry for being MIA for so long! Honest! But I _will_ try harder to keep deadlines. I blame FMA for being so damn addictive...

But anyway.

This here's a tie-in with my epic!fic _Full Circle_. Hopefully it'll be (re-)released soon. Sometime this year anyway, so that'll be good. But this is set before the events of that fic, and after the whole YGO series ends. Enjoy! ('Cause I might not get around to posting anything else for quite some ti_-shot-_)

**Disclaimer:** Unequivically not mine.

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The wood of the brush is smooth in his grasp. It makes a soothing sort of _swish_ as it twirls and strokes, gently carressing the rough canvas beneath his hand. Rain falls in sheets outside his window, fueling his mind with it's natural wonder. The paint gives off a sharp chemical smell as it is spread across the distances, slowly but surely forming a portal into the collective imagination of mankind.

Who says painting is a purely visual exercise?

Maximillion J. Pegasus is an imaginative man. In the course of just over six years, he has re-created the infamous Shadow Games in the form of cards, spread his game across the globe, and created new legends of his own. He had breathed life into the mysteries of the past, giving them and their weilders new futures. He has tinkered with magick and flirted with annihilation, achieving what should have been impossible many times over. None but the most imaginative, the most insane, could do the things he has done and survive.

He has lived through some of the greatest changes the world has ever known, and has the imagination to know that things are far from finished.

_Nothing you see is real, Yugi-boy_, he thinks. _You only see the image of what was once an event, but even that is something you interpret in your mind. The eye sees what it wants to see..._ Unconsiously, his hand drifts to his left eye socket, unfilled and covered only by his long hair as a reminder of his mistake. _As long as your mind interprets what you are seeing, doing, and thinking, you will always be one step behind everything else._

He pauses, takes a breath, and continues painting. After another few strokes, the circle is complete, and he begins adding in the detail. _But it must work both ways, because I remember now! I remember what happened that day!_

Those of true Creative power not only _interpret_ energy, they _create_ it. Imagination is a function of the mind. You "image" something, and it begins to take physical form. The longer you image it, and the more _of_ you who image it, the more physical that form becomes, until the increasing energy you have given it literally _bursts into light_, flashing an image of itself into what is called reality.

_Reality itself is an illusion, albiet a very persistant one_, he thinks to himself as he begins to grow excited. _But a convenient illusion nonetheless. Hopefully I can make use of my creativity one more time..._

Shivers run up and down his spine, but the hand that holds the brush is quite steady and calm. _Reality is an illusion, so read between the lines. I wish I could help in a more direct way, but—_ The thought is cut off as a loud _crack_ of thunder shakes the room. Only years of experience saves the painting from being ruined by its excitable creator; Pegasus' hand flys _away_ from the canvas as he starts at the sudden sound.

Sobered once again, the Creator of the cards looks over his nearly-completed work. It is a serpentine dragon of stunning detail, each black and white scale filled in to exacting perfection. The code has already been inserted, but he looks it over again to make doubly certain it is perfect. But it is. And he has planned for every eventuality he can think of. The circle was drawing to a close, just as the dragon in his painting formed a circle with its body, biting its own tail.

Odd, really, that such a symbol cropped up in so many different civilizations. Of course, the Ouroboros is nothing new to archaeologists, symbologists, and the like. And the use of his little coded message would ensure that all the right people would be in all the right places when everything began. _Not that I can let on how much I know. I made that mistake once before, with Doma..._

There is just one more touch to add, the odd little symbol he had only seen in his dreams. He had never before seen such a glyph in real life, but something tells him it is important. _Intuition? Imagination? Both?_

Maybe neither...

It is a simple little thing, and he places it in the center of the circle. One continuous stroke forms a sideways figure-eight, the symbol for infinity _(repitition, just as a circle flows again and again)_, and a quick flick of his wrist slashes the glyph in half with a harsh black line _(the Is-Not within the Is, part of, contrasting, and balancing all at the same time)_. Surrounding the design are two... no, three dots. A quick dab suffices for each—one _(Earth)_, two _(Sun)_, three _(and Sky, without and within, or else forever caught between as the cycle continues—)_.

Pegasus halts and blinks, wondering at the odd new thoughts running through his mind.

After a moment, he smiles.

_Follow the trail, Yugi-boy_, he thinks with the smallest of smirks forming on his face, _and maybe there will be a prize at the end._

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AN: So how's _that_ for tantalizing, eh? And you never know—maybe a nice review will inspire me to write faster! XP


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